


Perfect Fit

by BloodRedRose (orphan_account)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Humor, M/M, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-04
Updated: 2014-07-04
Packaged: 2018-02-07 11:38:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1897578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/BloodRedRose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Okay, so, how about this?”</p><p> </p><p>“That looks like something Peter would wear, not me.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay fine……oh, this looks nice.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re just choosing everything blue.”</p><p> </p><p>“No I’m not.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect Fit

The thing about fighting supernatural crime (‘attempted murder’ of your friends being the common one) is that there’s a lot of violence involved. Violence with claws, guns, teeth, sharp pointy man-made objects (knives, Chinese daggers, swords, arrows, needles, pencils, and that one unfortunate time where a screwdriver was involved making Scott develop an acute fear of screwdrivers) among various things that will no doubt be included in the future so the list is still open.

 

And with that sort of violence clothes get ruined.

 

Lots of clothes.

 

So many that Allison doesn’t change clothes for two days because she gets “So sick of this, I’m not loosing any more blouses, Scott, it’s either me wearing this blouse till you get sick of the stench and leave me or till tomorrow depending on how this goes.” (Stiles thinks it was actually Jackson stripping down to his boxers for a fight that prompted Scott to ignore their opponents begging for a third chance.)

 

So many that eventually Stiles has to drive Derek to the next town ( “Why my jeep?” “Because for some reason your jeep always manages to makes it through everything”) because every clothe store clerk in their town knows Derek so well due to the frequency of his visits that they start noticing and getting confused when he buys the same shirts he bought last time because he liked them so much he missed them when they got shredded.

 

They drive over to a mall in the next town and Derek has to “look around since I’ve never been here before.”

 

Eventually he finishes what he calls “looking around” and what Stiles calls “killing Stiles of boredom, I’m sure we’re going around in circles, Derek, they all look the same to me.” “They’re not the same Stiles.”

 

Stiles figures he finished looking around, so now they just get what Derek wants and go home.

 

He gets a look of disbelief from Derek for that.

 

“I was just checking where everything was.”

 

“Wait-so you didn’t choose anything? We were just walking around for half an hour sightseeing?”

 

Derek rolls his eyes and steers Stiles around, driving him to start walking back the way they came from through racks of clothes.

 

“I can’t just pick something from the first rack I see.”

 

Stiles twists his neck against the grip Derek had on his nape. “Okay, so now that you’ve seen all the racks you pick something right?”

 

Derek frowns at him in confusion.

 

“There are three more levels to cover.”

 

“Uh……okay, but, you don’t exactly wear a wide variety of clothes, it’s just t-shirts.” Stiles waves at the shops they’re leaving behind as he gets pushed onto the escalator and they start ascending to the next level.

 

Derek doesn’t heed to a word he says.

 

“Maybe the next level has kids stuff,” he offers, staring at the floor they slowly leave behind, “since it’s a different level and last I remember-oh…that’s –the next level has t-shirts too.”

 

They ‘look around’ there too.

 

Stiles points out that the shirts on this level don’t look much different from the ones they saw on the floor below. Derek just looks at him like he doesn’t understand what’s wrong with Stiles.

 

“Don’t give me that look, remember that you picked this,” he waves a hand about himself in a flourish, “to confess your undying love to when you had a wide variety of choices to choose from so now you’re stuck with Stiles.”

 

“Nothing I have a problem with.” Derek says offhandedly to signal that he’s listening to Stiles and makes a face of concentration as he goes through a rack full of what Stiles believes is just ‘grey t-shirts’ but Derek probably finds each of them to be significantly different from the other given how he just ignores some and stops at the others.

 

“Did you find anything yet?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“………okay, how about now?”

 

“Does it look like I’ve found something?”

 

“No, but, come on, look at all of this,” Stiles says with a wave at all the choices around them, “all of these look great.”

 

Derek pins him with a sharp gaze. “I guess you’ve found something that I can buy?” Stiles stares at him blankly, Derek giving him a heavy raise of brows that prompts him. “Yeah, sure, I see lots of things that look nice around here, like, like,” Derek just appears to be content with staring at Stiles expectantly for eternity, it has Stiles looking around frantically for something and finding something blue to jab a hand at, “this?”

 

Derek makes a show of contemplating it heavily before shaking his head. “No, it looks too bright.”

 

“Too bright?” Stiles echoes dumbly. “It’s…it’s just normal blue like the sky, Derek, I don’t see anything too bright about it.”

 

“Then you don’t get to choose anything for me.” Derek declares unyieldingly.

 

Stiles gets out a groan out of discontent.

 

It doesn’t hurt to try, though. He chooses his own clothes; he can do the same for anyone else. How hard can it be?

 

“Okay, so, how about this?”

 

“That looks like something Peter would wear, not me.”

 

“Okay fine……oh, this looks nice.”

 

“You’re just choosing everything blue.”

 

“No I’m not.”

 

Derek holds his gaze till Stiles relents with a sigh only because he doesn’t want to waste a second longer in this place than he absolutely has to and puts the what he just dubbed ‘ice colored v-neck that I think I saw Boyd wear yesterday’ back where he found it.

 

There’s a plaid –

 

“Stop.”

 

Stiles gapes at Derek. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

 

Derek stops from where he was reaching up to pull a blue v-neck down. Stiles swears it looks almost identical to the one he’d picked moments ago but Derek would probably disagree.

 

“But you were going to.” Derek points out.

 

Stiles makes a few noises of protest before crossing his arms and making a few more noises of protest.

 

“You don’t know that for sure.”

 

“Better safe than sorry.” Derek claims, gesturing for Stiles to follow him as he walks off towards the counter.

 

“Okay, so do you want to get something to eat before we leave?” Stiles asks.

 

“We’ll see when I’m done.”

 

Stiles lets out a snort of amusement. “Yeah, and you are done.” He gives the shopping back with the blue v-neck that Derek just bought a pointed glance.

 

“………You are done, right?” Stiles asks.

 

Derek looks at him like he’s an idiot. “I just got _one_.”

 

Stiles figures Derek has a point there with the rate at which he looses clothes recently. He definitely needs more than just one shirt.

 

Derek, thankfully, gives one look around the third level they stop at and decides that he doesn’t need to ‘look around’ and goes back to the first level he did his ‘looking around’ at.

 

Stiles feels his mood pick up significantly at that because Derek already saw everything in the floor they’re at so now he just has to pick something.

 

He starts feeling his feet protest and refuse to move unless bribed with a foot message by the time Derek finishes choosing enough t-shirts to try on.

 

It’s a tingling feeling making itself knows every time his feet come in contact with the ground as he follows Derek around with his arms stacked full of everything since it’s rude to say no when your beloved gives you a look that adoring and requests you hold onto this for him to try on later.

 

Except after the first few times Derek stops requesting and just starts holdings things up till Stiles walks close enough for Derek to add to the growing pile on Stiles’ arms.

 

Growing and growing and growing.

 

He’s scared he’ll drop everything single one of the brand new looking shirts if he moves a single muscle in his arm. And then they might get dirty but it’s hard to tell for sure since there’s a lot of stuff blocking Stiles’ view of the floor.

 

His eyes fall on the clock overhead.

 

“Oh my God, we’ve been here for two hours?”

 

Derek glances at Stiles, following his line of sight and letting out a casual, “seems like it” on seeing the time before going back to asking the clerk if they have the what Stiles calls ‘green t-shirt but if you want something more fancy then this t-shirt also goes by muted forest green’ Derek is holding on his exact size.

 

His arms start aching.

 

Derek holds a navy blue t-shirt against him and gives Stiles a look that makes Stiles feel he should stop fidgeting and pay his full attention to Derek now.

 

“What do you think?” Derek asks as he looks down at the shirt before looking at Stiles for his opinion.

 

“I think you’ll look great in it.” Stiles answers truthfully.

 

He wants to throw his hands up in a cheer when Derek takes it straight to the counter and just buys it instead of deliberating.

 

He’s not sure what to do with the pile in his arms but he figures Derek is probably going to try them on now when he leads Stiles to what Stiles hopes is the trial room. Although Stiles doesn’t get what the big deal is since Derek already knows his size and there’s nothing in this world that can make him look unflattering.

 

It’s the trail rooms. Stiles tries to figure out a pattern on what Derek likes but it starts getting hard when he tries two black ones and adds one to one pile and adds the other one to another pile that Stiles assumes is the pile he’s not planning on buying anything from with a frown.

 

“It doesn’t fit?” Stiles asks.

 

“It fits.”

 

“………so you’re not getting it because it’s the same as that,” Stiles points at the black one on top of the ‘to be bought’ pile, “one? We should probably separate the ones you picked more than once in that case and save you some trouble.” Stiles suggests.

 

“It wasn’t the same.” Derek informs him, taking a plum one and going back to the trail rooms.

 

When he comes out he raises his brows at Stiles in question. Stiles assumes he’s being asked how Derek looks and he replies with “you look great in that”.

 

Derek asks his opinion on the next one as well. And the one after that. And then on the one after that. On the next one he narrows his eyes in suspicion when Stiles says that Derek “looks great in that one too”.

 

“I just look great in everything don’t I?” Derek drones.

 

Stiles nods enthusiastically in agreement.

 

Derek doesn’t look amused.

 

“What? I’m not lying; you do look great in all of them.” Stiles lets out petulantly.

 

“I can tell that you’re not lying.” Derek reminds him with an impatient sigh.

 

“Then you know that I’m not lying. Don’t give me that look where I feel like I’m doing something wrong, you look ridiculously good looking in everything you’re trying so I can’t say anything else.”

 

Stiles doesn’t know why, but Derek lets out a chuckle, approaching Stiles with a look that makes Stiles feel as if he did something he’s not aware of that Derek finds to his liking, giving Stiles a kiss right in there in public which makes Stiles sure that he definitely did something that Derek found noteworthy.

 

He thinks about asking what he did, because this shopping with Derek thing is a completely new territory in their relationship and one that’s turning out to have him at a loss, but Derek just runs a hand through his hair, distracting Stiles with the feel of the light pressure on his scalp before picking up ‘muted forest green t-shirt’ and going off to try that one on. Stiles finds himself gaping at Derek’s disappearing back at the pda coming from him. Then again, no one knows them in this town enough to go asking the sheriff about his son’s boyfriend being a former murder suspect (it usually ends with Stiles getting an exasperated ‘what did he ever do to you for you to get him framed in the first place, son?’).

 

Stiles decides to offer a complement that’s more specific than ‘you look great’ when Derek comes out wearing the green one and starts looking through the pile for something.

 

“That one really brings out your eyes.”

 

He considers it a success when Derek’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise and he offers Stiles a “thank you” that sounds appeasing.

 

Except a store clerk that has apparently been watching them pipes up with, “Not really, something darker would bring your eyes out more.”

 

Derek straightens himself slowly and shoots him a dead stare that clarifies just how welcome his opinion is. It has the guy scurry away awkwardly when Derek remains unimpressed by the smile the guy gives him while his colleagues snicker at him not so subtly.

 

“Right. Something darker.” Stiles mutters weakly.

 

He wants to dig a grave and curl up in it. He’s not coming out till Derek’s eye color changes to something that’s brought out by the green shirt that Stiles just learned is not dark enough to actually bring out his eyes. That’s the only way the world won’t kill him of embarrassment. Seriously, who would’ve thought that colors were that serious business?

 

“Maybe we should ask the guy to come back, since he actually seems to know something about all of this.” Stiles offers casually with a gesture at the shirt Derek was wearing, being careful to avoid looking him in the eyes.

 

His beautiful hazel eyes.

 

………Holy shit, they’re probably not hazel, are they? They’re probably called something else.

 

“I know what colors bring my eyes out.” Derek admits reluctantly.

 

“You could’ve just corrected me, then.” Stiles offers meekly with a sigh. Now he just feels like an idiot.

 

Derek curls a warm hand around his neck, pressing a thumb under his jaw and stroking at the skin there till Stiles looks up to see the apologetic look in his eyes. “I guess I’m guilty of indulging you,” is all Derek offers before finding another green one in the pile that looks identical to the one he was wearing and going back into the trail room.

 

Stiles wipes a shaky hand across his heated face.

 

He notices the clerk from before lingering and trying to appear nonchalant while sneaking glances at the trial room Derek just disappeared to.

 

“Hey! Yeah you. Wanna know what’s gonna happen if I see you creeping around my guy one more time?” He’s not even halfway through his description and the guy’s walking away quickly looking pale.

 

Stiles isn’t sure if the green ones are the same but they definitely look exactly the same, except Derek looks better in the second one, so they’re probably the same but different sized.

 

“They’re the same.” Stiles hazards.

 

“The sizes are different.”

 

“I knew that!” Stiles declares in triumph. Derek just shoots him a fond smirk at that for some reason.

 

For the next one Stiles tries to think of some elaborate compliment but the bringing out his eyes one was the only one he could think of apparently because he comes up blank. And that complement wasn’t even the right one.

 

Derek just looks good in all of them. Stiles doesn’t know why. It’s like a fact no one would dare dispute.

 

Three more trials later Derek finally makes a final decision on which shirts are fortunate enough to be added to the pile of ‘clothes to be bought and worn by Derek Hale’.

 

Derek pays while the other guy at the counter proceeds to pack his shopping.

 

It’s over, they’re done, they can go back and Stiles can maybe dip his feet in ice, it’s been four hours and now they’re finally done, he can already feel the tingling at his feet receding from the anticipation of-

 

“Hold this.” Derek pushes the bags holding his shopping at Stiles and walks off towards the section for jeans.

 

“No, no, no – we can come another day, there’s no rush, obviously you enjoy shopping, why not drag it out to a couple of days?” Stiles tries with keeping his tone of voice genuinely suggestive instead of sorrowful as he follows Derek with the straps of the handles of the shopping bags digging into the skin of his palms.

 

“No, it’s better to get this over with.” Derek states.

 

The ache on his feet just got more pronounced. Oh his arms were starting to tingle for real too.

 

With the t-shirts, there were differences. The colors were different. The necks were different. Some were long sleeved and some were short sleeved.

 

Jeans are just………jeans. Blue jeans. That’s it.

 

When he tells Derek that “they all look the same” he gets an offhanded “you said the same for the shirts” in reply.

 

“Yeah, but, this time, I’m serious. Okay no wait- last time I was serious as well, but this time I’m even more serious because they do all actually look the same. We are surrounded with exactly the same color of pants with the same name. We’re surrounded by jeans and its clones Derek.”

 

He gets a snort of amusement in reply. Derek catches his wrist and runs a thumb over the vein in the sensitive underside of his wrist in a caress that halts Stiles before going off in search of one clone of a pair of jeans.

 

He just passes by shelves full of jeans, giving them nothing more than a fleeting glance.

 

He doesn’t know why it is taking Derek so long. He looks good in whatever he wears. He looks good in whatever Stiles wears too judging from that one time Derek wore one of his plaid shirts. Stiles knows what type of clothes he likes to wear so he just chooses what he sees and likes. Derek seems to know what he likes but he just takes so much longer to choose when they all look the same to Stiles. And when he does choose they’re all within the fixed range of colors and types. If Derek wore two of the brown ones and asked Stiles which was which Stiles really wouldn’t be able to tell. They’re brown. They look a little different when you put them side by side but otherwise they’re the same. The same color and having the same effect of making Derek Hale look great.

 

It might just be his imagination but the tingling in his feet appears to be reaching out from his ankles to start radiating through his legs. His arms were starting to feel strained. He wants to move, he can’t keep standing still while Derek just goes through the jeans stacked on the same spot on one of the shelves, he doesn’t want to annoy Derek and ruin this for him since Derek seems to love taking his time, but the tingling in his feet was starting to feel more like his muscles ready to peel off of his bones.

 

“Derek, they’re just jeans.” Stiles starts dully. “You can just try them on and see how they fit, that’s easier than trying to figure out if they fit.” Derek trying them out and letting Stiles take a good look at his ass to see if they fit, that would make the trip bearable.

 

Unless the jeans are a size or two too small, that’d make the trip enjoyable for at least an hour starting from when Stiles lays his eyes on that ass.

 

“I don’t have to try them on, I know my size.”

 

Stiles spins around in the spot he was standing slowly with heavy steps as he tries to apprehend the extent of the ache on his feet from standing and walking around while carrying the piles of clothes with his muscles remaining stretched continuously in the same way and not enough respite for recovery. Lacrosse and running around is so much easier, he gets to move all he wants without having to stand still for so long.

 

He wants to lie down. There are not much people around; he could lie down right here. He can just sprawl on the floor and let the security cameras see that he’s not trying anything funny. He’s just lying on their floor.

 

“Okay, so just ask the clerk for your size.” Stiles suggest with a touch of misery on his voice.

 

He gets a grunt in reply.

 

He considers just asking Derek to hold the bags for a while but the idea gets shut down automatically with a scoff the moment it fully crosses his mind. Derek can’t look at stuff with his hands full, and Stiles isn’t an asshole to make Derek carry all the stuff just because Stiles can feel a little tingling in his arms, he doesn’t like the idea of it at all.

 

“Derek, we’ve been here for hours, they’re just jeans, you look good in whatever you wear and these,” his attempt to gesture at the jeans surrounding them is in vain due to the collective weight of the bags and the tingling in his arms, “look exactly like the ones you’re wearing right now and your ass looks _fine_ in them, finer than the collective fine asses in town, _just pick one pair already_.”

 

“It won’t take long.” Derek tells him as he keeps going through the pairs. Stiles has no idea what the hell he is looking for. Oh how his foot feels like it wants to just rot and die when he curls it.

 

“My feet,” Stiles relents and starts the complain he’s been holding in with the most patience he’s ever exercised in his entire life, “are killing me Derek.” What’s that you ask? It’s the sound of your boyfriend ruining your shopping spree, Derek. “We’ve been here for hours and my puny human feet are starting to feel like they’ll much feel better if I just chop them right off to separating the pained parts. They’re hurting, they’re crying at how much pain they’re in, aching-“

 

Derek turns around and shuts him off with a chaste peck on the lips, telling him, “I’ll make it up to you” before finally approaching the counter with his chosen pair of jeans.

 

Stiles offers to carry the bag with the jeans the moment Derek announces he’s done. He insists and takes it from Derek. He’s just so glad that they’re done.

 

Derek presses his lips into a thin line and looks a lot like he’s trying to hold his laughter in. You know, he’s probably just happy about all the stuff he got to buy.

 

Stiles refuses any offers of food. But then it crosses his mind that maybe Derek wanted something to eat. Derek just says he only asked because it looked like Stiles wanted something since he asked earlier. Stiles feels his heart warm up at Derek remembering. At least he hopes that’s why his heart feels like it is melting. In the end they do get something to eat for dinner since that’s how late it got.

 

Stiles snatches his hand out of Derek’s the moment he sees black veins branching out from Derek’s wrist.

 

Derek’s eyes widen in shock at the look of disbelief Stiles charges him with. He bumps a foot into Stiles’ aching ones in explanation.

 

“I don’t think so.” Derek narrows his eyes in preparation to argue. “I don’t want you hurting because of me.” Stiles focuses on taking a big bite and relaxes when he sees Derek slowly withdraw his hand and take a bite of his own burger in his peripheral vision. When he looks directly, Derek is staring at him with an all consuming look that makes his stomach flip.

 

Derek argues with Scott over the phone the whole way back about what to do about the body their latest nemesis buried in Scott’s backyard that Lydia forgot to tell them about amidst all the other things.

 

He doesn’t let Stiles join the conversation since he’s driving.

 

“Maybe she chose your backyard thinking the police would find it before you did.

 

“Yeah, sure you noticed. _A week later._

 

“Then stop trying to ignore all the smells and just learn to compartmentalize.

 

“You really want to be taken in as a murder suspect? _Then don’t report it to Sheriff Stilinski._

 

“Yeah, I know. Did you think about what his Deputies might assume?

 

“There’s no missing person alert in town right now, he’s probably from out of town.”

 

Stiles just changes and falls right into bed with a groan the moment he can. He overestimated the softness of the bed. Or it’s just the stiff pain in his muscles making everything they touch appear harsh for hurting them. It doesn’t matter, if he lays still then it starts to ebb away. It comes back the moment he moves, but that’s fine since he feels sleep weigh his eyelids close and just hopes that he doesn’t move enough for the pain to wake him up.

 

He wakes up to the feeling of a hand sliding down his bare chest, shivering at the reverent touch. The feel of the same hand settling on his shoulder in a possessive grip brings his mind back to full awareness, letting him notice how he was completely naked with an equally naked Derek Hale hovering over him.

 

“Please tell me it was you that took my clothes of.” Stiles mutters.

 

Derek pins him with an incredulous raise of his brows at that. “Were you expecting someone else?”

 

“No, that’s why I’m hoping it was you.” Stiles says, getting a twitch of the lips as a smile from Derek before his mouth is captured in a searing kiss.

 

His arms ache the moment he tries to move them, so he lets them fall back into bed with a groan. Stiles breaks off the kiss to ask, “dude, I don’t know how late it is, you sure you want sex like right now? Because I can’t move a muscle so you’ll have to do all the work,” Derek latching on to the side of the neck Stiles bares when he breaks the kiss off, licking along the tendons pulled taut and scraping his teeth against the wet skin, stroking a hand along the skin of the inner thigh in feather light touches making Stiles squirm at the ticklish feeling, his skin heating up from anticipation.

 

“I know. Consider it me making it up to you.” Derek replies before going back to leaving a long trail of kisses from the underside of his jaw to his shoulder, sinking his teeth into the skin stretched over the muscles there.

 

“You’re going to do all the work?” Stiles manages to ask with a shudder at the hand moving higher up to fondle his cock and bringing it to full hardness.

 

“Why does that sound like you don’t want me to do all the work?” Derek asks sounding peeved, rubbing his hand roughly along the length and moving lower to rub along his balls.

 

“You go slow.” Stiles complains amidst his breath picking up, battling with the stiffness of his muscles to hook a leg over Derek’s hip, heels digging into his ass in an attempt to bring him closer. Derek hooks a hand under his knee, lifting it up causing Stiles to grunt at the pain the muscles, Derek sliding his hand down to lift Stiles’ hips up with a hand under his ass to put a pillow under him, moving in between his spread legs.

 

“You get impatient.” Derek points out, bending down to latch onto a nipple with his teeth; Stiles digging his teeth into his lips at the sharp feeling going directly to his dick and making it twitch noticeably.

 

“Because you go slow.” Stiles babbles, breath catching at Derek proceeding to mouth at his pectoral, pressing a thumb roughly on his other nub with the muscles jumping under his touches.

 

“You,” Derek accuses, straightening up and looking down to wrap a hand carefully around his dick, giving it a slow stroke that has Stiles curling his toes, “get so desperate to get off you barely leave time to enjoy it.”

 

“We could just get off and then get off again.” Stiles suggest shakily, squirming at the deliberately drawn out strokes. “Since it kind of _ends_ the same you know, no matter what you do, and…ha-however you start it…and…and…”

 

“You don’t usually try to hold a conversation.” Derek comments dryly, rubbing a thumb roughly over the tip, smearing the pre-come.

 

“Usually, my mouth is occupied.” Stiles points out breathlessly, raising an arm and letting it fall back to the bed with his mouth falling open in a gasp when Derek tightens his grip in the next stroke.

 

Derek puts on a face of deep understanding, pressing two fingers of his free hand on his lips till Stiles flicks a tongue out to lick at the digits, sucking them deeper into his mouth, letting them rest against his tongue when they’re knuckle deep in, looking up through his lashes to see Derek watching him avidly. Eventually when he thinks they’re wet enough, Derek rubs them into the crease of his ass and eases a finger inside easily when Stiles opens up automatically.

 

He goes slowly enough for Stiles to want to complain. Rubbing the finger deep with periods of just letting it rest there avoiding the prostate while Stiles feels his muscles fluttering around the digit inside him till it feels like a part of him, and then moving it in and out slow enough for Stiles to feel its shape as it leaves him feeling empty with no lube to reduce the drag against his walls. By the time Derek can fit three fingers in comfortably, Stiles feels loose enough that his hole twitches to close around something that’s sizable enough to occupy him when the fingers leave. He feels so uncomfortable at the emptiness that feels like it’s permanent that he threatens to never let Derek fuck him ever again if it looks even a little like Derek has no idea what he’s doing.

 

“I’m taking my time and enjoying it since I’m the only one around here that knows how.”  Derek watches more pre-come dribble down to pool at Stiles’ navel when he slides his fingers in again to fan them out, dragging them out slowly.

 

Stiles tries to raise himself up to touch Derek but the ache in his muscle Derek managed to work around returns. Derek plants the hand that’s not in Stiles’ ass on his chest, warning him, “I’ll start taking your pain away if you move one more time.”

 

“I won’t.” Stiles promises in a broken voice, a keening noise getting drawn out of him when Derek slides a condom on and slicks himself up with enough lube to slide right inside Stiles smoothly in one go and hit the prostate sharply for the first time.

Derek groans as he gives a few shallow thrusts, gripping Stiles by the hips and pinning him firmly in place.

 

Stiles tries shifting his hips, panting heavily and feeling the dick fitted inside him pressing against his sweet spot. He lets out Derek’s name in a cry when Derek snaps his hips forward sharply without warning and keeps his pace steady without pausing for a moment.

 

Stiles didn’t see Derek touch himself even once, so he’s surprised when Derek manages to continue abusing his prostate with sharp thrusts even after he comes untouched with thick spurts of his come landing as high as his chest from the strength of his orgasm.

 

Eventually Stiles feels Derek thrust in deep and keep pushing as his dick pulsates inside him, feeling rather than hearing his moan from where their mouth were sealed together.

 

“How did you manage to not touch yourself even once?” Stiles demands when Derek collapses beside him.

 

“Unlike someone in this room I can control myself.”

 

“Ouch. You could’ve just told me you hated how I can’t control myself instead of suffering through it all the times we had sex.”

 

Derek pushes himself off and leans up on an elbow, hovering over Stiles partially and running a hand down his side making him shudder at the ticklish sensation.

 

“I never said I hated it.” Derek runs his hand down and curls it over a hip, settling his thumb in the v of his pelvis. He starts rubbing at the spot there that has Stiles biting his lips, letting his hand slide lower and lower down Stiles.

 

“Yeah, but you seemed to like it better when I wasn’t rushing us.” Stiles says quietly.

 

“I like touching you a lot. There’s nothing I don’t like about you-“ Stiles can’t help the incredulous snort he lets out at that one, and Derek gets why judging from the look on his face, “-fine, let me rephrase that- there’s nothing I want to change about you. I like the way you look when I’m touching you, so I want it to last longer, to keep getting you worked up till all you remember is my name, that’s why I want to go slow, I want to see how far I can take you.”

 

Stiles has to lick his lips several times and ends up making his muscles ache from his squirming, skin heating up again from the hand ghosting touches over him. Derek doesn’t take his eyes off of Stiles for a second.

 

“So…”Stiles starts eventually when Derek just appears to remain content with letting his confession sink in –and with staring at Stiles’ face, “you want to go slower than that?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Okay……why don’t you try going slower this time then? Like, right now?”

 

Derek gives him a slow smile at that. “Fine.”


End file.
